


The Lost Son Of Ymir

by roryheadmav



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Past Life AU, Thorki - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roryheadmav/pseuds/roryheadmav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Past Life Thorki story set before the creation of the universe and the Nine Realms. The evil Frost Giant Ymir is ruler of the young cosmos and father to all races. However, his hatred for the Aesir knows no bounds. Seeking their total annihilation, the Jotun monarch sought to use the immense power of his youngest son against them. However, little does Ymir know that his son, the infamous Blood Mage, would mean the end of his vile reign and the beginning of a new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Son Of Ymir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tothetwelve](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tothetwelve).



> Happy New Year, Everyone! This story you are about to read is my Holiday Present for ToTheTwelve. This tale was inspired by her art of Loki bathing in blood like Elizabeth Bathory, which you can find at this link http://tothetwelve.tumblr.com/post/52505193674/loki-the-jotun-prince-who-bathed-in-asgardian. 
> 
> Although Thor and Loki are not the actual characters of this tale, Thorbolt Burisson and Luca Ymirsson are their past life counterparts. I must admit this was one of those stories that proved to be very challenging to write. Since this tale took place before Odin's time, meaning before the actual creation of the universe, I had to be more meticulous in the research. During this period, both Asgard and Jotunheim have not been founded. There are only two realms, namely Niflheim and Muspelheim. Also because of its pre-creation setting, I had to pay closer attention to the details.
> 
> Of course, I still may have missed a few errors, details, and typos, so please pardon them.
> 
> Again, a Happy 2014 to you all! For ToTheTwelve, I hope you enjoy this story based on your art. <3

**THE LOST SON OF YMIR**

**Copyrighted January 2, 2014 By Rory**

 

 

_Many tales have been told about the origins of the universe, but all of them present merely a very small fraction of the truth. Much of the narrative has been distorted with extraordinary, even supernatural detail, so that no one realizes that the story in itself is but an uncomplicated thing, but no less fantastic, even in its simplicity._

_Such is the tale of the progenitor of all life in the universe, the Frost Giant Ymir. While it is true that Ymir was born from the melted rime and frost of the yawning void of Ginnungagap, situated between icy Niflheim and fiery Muspelheim, his wife Auðumbla, also born from the melting drips of the chasm, was most certainly not a cow, but a beautiful Frost Giantess of great fertility. Desiring the sustenance that he knew would flow from her ample bosom, Ymir forced himself upon Auðumbla, and from their union was born the first Aesir, beautiful and powerful Buri. Seeing that Buri would most likely challenge his dominion over the then infant cosmos, Ymir sought to destroy him. But wise Auðumbla sent her firstborn off to some place safe. And, for a long, long time, the fate of Buri and his children remained unknown, until they make their appearances much, much later in the story._

_Ymir would sire other children from Auðumbla. However, there was one child whose name was forever stricken from the ancient genealogical records of the Jotuns. For all intents and purposes, this youngest child of Ymir and Auðumbla should never have been born. Its conception was heralded by a bright, blinding light in the darkness above their heads. That first star—although back then the proper term has not yet been given to this celestial body—was considered an ill omen by all the Frost Giants. At first, they feared what was growing inside Auðumbla's womb. But when she gave birth to her youngest son, the Jotuns heaved a collective sigh of relief._

_The poor thing was a thin, feeble runt, its diminutive stature a disgrace to his father and the other Frost Giants who valued brawn and height. To Auðumbla's even greater horror, her babe had a terrible illness. As soon as it emerged from her womb, the Frost Giantess watched as the baby began to turn into ice, the freezing cold enveloping him in a jagged blue icy cover from the tips of his toes and creeping up his legs to his upper body. The heat of fire and the application of hot compresses upon the babe's skin would arrest the fatal effect of the cold albeit temporarily._

_Ymir would have been content to see his accursed son perish if he had not discovered the reason for his offspring's strange condition, using his keen sight for magic. Seiðr literally flowed through the child's veins. But because of his weak constitution, he could not fully control the very strong magic within him. Only one thing could arrest the freezing power of the seiðr—by bathing the babe in fresh, hot blood and letting his azure skin absorb the life force of its source. Although appalled at the thought of killing a hapless creature to keep her son alive, Auðumbla ultimately gave in to Ymir's insistence that he and his people hunt in order to save their offspring, believing that the Frost Giant loved their child. Poor Auðumbla would die five years later. Perhaps if she had known the lengths that Ymir would take to sustain their son's life and the evil plans that her husband had in store for the great power inside him, she would have taken their child with her to the worlds beyond. However, the Norns had woven a different fate for Ymir's son._

 

 

"My Lord, your bath is ready."

 

Luca Ymirsson laid down the gold comb that he had been using to get the tangles out of his ebony waist-length hair, which had become a mess after his hasty return ride to Utgard.

 

He had just come from a small village near the Niflheim border. Because the villagers were frequently being attacked by Fire Demons from Muspelheim, Ymir had ordered him to bolster their defenses by stretching Utgard's magical barrier to include the village as well. His father wanted him to extend the barrier to include the boundary nearest to the pillaging Aesir kingdom as well, but the tumultuous forces in Ginnungagap made the endeavor an impossibility. Even then, the effort of raising the shield so close to Surtur's domain took a lot out of the Jotun mage and he soon found his hands nearly transformed into ice, necessitating his immediate return to their castle stronghold by riding his frost beast through the hidden pathways that connected the young realms of the cosmos.

 

It was a good thing that Luca had dipped his head low as he replaced his comb on the dresser table top. He did not want the inquisitive servant to see the moue of disgust that flitted over his beautiful, delicate features.

 

Assuming a more neutral expression, Luca inquired, "Pray, tell me. What hapless creature did the King and his hunters kill this time?"

 

There was booming laughter from the door. Luca did not even have to turn to find out who his unwanted visitor was. Dismissing the servant brusquely, Ymir himself strode inside his chamber, his father's heavy footsteps causing the floor to shake.

 

"A bilgesnipe is far from helpless, Luca," Ymir chided his youngest son. "It nearly gored your brother Balgi with its sharp antlers."

 

 _Too bad Balgi survived,_ the Jotun Prince thought ruefully. _It would've been a tremendous relief for me if they had ALL been annihilated by a herd of bilgesnipe…including you._

 

Letting faux worry and concern register on his face, Luca stood up from his carved ice chair, sweeping his silk robe closed over his naked form. Unfortunately, he could not tie the garment at the waist because his hands were now blocks of ice within his warming gloves. Already, he could feel the cold creeping up his arms and legs. "Then, I must tend to Balgi's wound first before I bathe lest it fester. One of your hunters perished after a similar injury. He must be healed immediately."

 

Ymir's hand was so huge that it practically gripped Luca's entire upper arm as he pulled his son back, preventing his hasty departure.

 

 ** _"FATHER!"_** Luca exclaimed, his deep, disapproving frown causing the royal marks and ridges on his brow to become more prominent.

 

"The healers are already tending to Balgi as we speak, using the herbs and balms you have concocted. Balgi is of hardy constitution. You need not worry about him."

 

Luca breathed out a labored sigh. "Father, I told you to put a stop to the hunts. I will not have you sacrifice precious lives on my account. I will find the cure for my…condition…on my own, without the need for lives being lost."

 

"And if there is no cure?"

 

"Then I die. I've long accepted the inevitability of it anyway."

 

A heavy hand suddenly struck him, sending him flying through the air, so that he hit the wall hard. Luca gasped as his father jerked him up to his feet before he could slip to the floor.

 

"I will not have you speak such foolishness, Luca," Ymir emphasized his words with teeth-rattling shakes. "Utgard has dire need of your power. **_I_** need you. Without your seiðr, the realm would be helpless against its enemies."

 

"That's because you would not accept a truce!" the mage argued back, his emerald eyes flashing in anger at his father's obstinacy. "There have been many emissaries who have come from King Buri and his people, bearing messages expressing their desire for peace between our realms. You must open your eyes and see that there is no threat to your rule."

 

"The threat will only be gone once I have rid myself of the blight that is Buri and his kind, and I could not accomplish this without your help."

 

A shudder crept up Luca's spine, seeing that familiar flicker in his father's crimson eyes. Something which has become a regular, disturbing occurrence ever since he attained the Jotun age of maturity.

 

A flicker of desire, of lust. For his own flesh and blood.

 

Before he could free himself from the Jotun monarch's grip, Ymir swept him up into his huge, beefy arms and carried him, protesting, into the bath where a black granite pool of warmed blood awaited them. Setting Luca down at the pool's edge, Ymir waggled a finger, and the warp and weft of his son's robe unraveled, leaving him completely bare for the other's intense perusal.

 

"Father, no! Please…" Luca whimpered, as he tried to shield his nakedness with his now completely frozen arms stretched in front of his body.

 

Ymir stepped into the pool, pulling the younger Jotun along. He sat down on a hidden ledge built along the pool's side and settled his son a-straddle in a near split over his spread, massive thighs. Luca could not bring himself to glance down, knowing that his father's enormous member was poised beneath his virgin opening.

 

"Luca, you have inherited your mother's exquisite beauty," Ymir murmured huskily as he cupped hot blood in one hand and let it stream from the top of his son's head down to his body. The blood turned Luca's green eyes to a deep red. Stark, dark red rivulets flowed over the mage's blue skin, melting away the ice and frost. As it was absorbed, there were minute flashes of bright green light as the seiðr took in the life energy. Ymir lifted his finger and traced a bloody line along Luca's cheekbone. That same finger slid down to his neck, arching over a shoulder, and descending to his chest to nudge and flick a taut azure nipple. "You also have Auðumbla 's gift of fertility." With the pads of thumb and index finger still pressing over Luca's tits, he spread his gigantic palm over his now trembling son's belly. "Among the Jotun women and the few who are of two sexes like you, it is only you who could give me a child of immense magical power as she had done."

 

"You want me to bear you a child like me—strong in magic, but with a limited lifespan."

 

Luca would have laughed mockingly, but Ymir continued, "It had been my original plan to see you rutted with one or perhaps even all of your brothers. But they do not possess the expertise in wielding seiðr as you and me. No, it would be best if I claimed you for myself. This way, I could exert control over both our seiðr. I will not go blindly into our coupling as I had done with your mother."

 

The mage's blood red eyes flashed in seething anger. "You would perform an act of taboo, just to achieve your evil goals. Tell me…Father." To his dismay, the emphasis of their paternal bond did not deter Ymir from pursuing his unnatural advances. Worse, the Jotun King had even pulled Luca to him, with the all too obvious intention of suckling upon his breast. Between gritted teeth, the mage hissed, "Are you truly that desperate to risk everything, despite knowing what might happen to you…like with Vegar?"

 

Ymir stopped instantly before his lips could press upon his son's chest, his whole body stiffening at the mention of that name.

 

Vegar had been Luca's secret lover. Ever since the young Jotun realized that his father had ulterior motives upon him, Luca had been determined to give his chastity to the dashing Jotun instead of meekly complying with Ymir's perverse designs. It was most unfortunate that, on the night of their illicit tryst, Luca's 'condition' chose to manifest itself as they were about to consummate their love. One minute, Vegar was about to plunge his cock inside his lover's waiting body; the next, he was frozen completely solid when the tip of his member merely brushed against Luca's opening. The mage's anguished cry drew his father and brothers to the cave where they lay hidden. As he was carried back by Ymir to Utgard, Luca witnessed how his siblings had shattered Vegar into pieces with their weapons. Ymir was nearly frozen to death himself en route to the slaughterhouse. He had thrown Luca to the floor then and dumped all over his son's freezing body a large cauldron of blood that was being drained from two frost boars.

 

Infuriated by his youngest offspring's stubbornness, Ymir reached up and dug two fingers painfully into Luca's cheeks. "Don't you dare think that I am not aware of what you've been doing or, to be more precise, what you have been **_lax_** in performing! You tell me that you've been searching for a cure for your condition. Ever since Vegar died, I know that you have become half-hearted in your…research. Your life is mine, Luca Ymirsson, to do with as I please. Only I have the right to end it, at least, not until you give me what is my due."

 

The Jotun King shoved his son hard into the pool. Luca sank deep into the blood before he could get a firm foothold on the slippery bottom. When he emerged, he was gagging and spitting out blood.

 

"I may be your son, but I am not your property!" Luca spat back. "I shall never be your mate or your whore!"

 

Ymir stood up then, bestowing the incensed young Jotun a smoldering glare. "I will not have you disobedient to me, whelp! Whether you like it or not, you shall do as I say!" He then stormed out of the bath, slamming the thick ice doors shut behind him.

 

When his father was finally gone, Luca felt his knees buckle underneath him, so that he had to reach out and cling to the side of the pool. There was now no further doubt in his mind that Ymir will make good on his threat, and he would rather die than surrender to his father's loathsome demands.

 

Then again, there was a small part of him that wanted to cling to what little life was left to him. If he wanted to be free of Utgard and Ymir, Luca had to leave the castle. Immediately. And to do this, he had to do that which he abhorred to the very fiber of his being.

 

"Forgive me for this sacrilege," Luca quietly prayed to the poor creature whose life blood was given in offering to him. His red eyes changing bright green again as it blazed with seiðr, he willed the blood to enter him, gorging himself on the energies that were stored in the fluid, leaving the pool empty. Even the smears were absorbed to the very last drop.

 

With his powers and health now restored at full strength, Luca stepped out of the pool and hurried into his chamber to pack for his escape from Utgard.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Two hulking Jotun guards were marching along the castle parapets.

 

"It looks like we're in for a snowstorm tonight, eh," the guard remarked to his companion, viewing the darkening horizon.

 

"Well, I hope it comes when our shift is over," the other guard replied with a shiver. "I certainly wouldn't want to be caught up here when it hits."

 

At that moment, a swift wind blew, causing their loincloths to flap briskly. Although they were accustomed to the cold, that sudden wind made the guards wrap their arms around their bodies.

 

"Yep, definitely a blizzard," the second Jotun guard declared. "The kind that could freeze the balls of a Frost Giant."

 

"I thought you didn't have any balls to freeze," the first guard laughed raucously.

 

The two guards never knew that the wind they felt was caused by Luca's hasty passage along the parapet. He had shrouded his presence with a spell of concealment and an aura of cold. It was such a subtle disguise that even his father Ymir, with his all-powerful sight, would not be able to detect him. As a result, he was able to leap down from the parapet and onto the frozen field below. Thankfully, because heavy snow was falling from the heavens, it quickly covered the tracks he made on its white expanse. It was only when he was out of viewing range of the castle and hidden among the rocks and crags that Luca stopped running.

 

"Farewell, Father," Luca muttered disdainfully without even bothering to look back. "I will not be a willing party to your foul schemes anymore."

 

Luca felt the long, slim ice blade sheathed at his back and the belt of throwing frost daggers at his waist. His bag he had magicked so that it would contain all the food, supplies and clothing he would need until he reached the first settlement. Satisfied with his preparations, he continued on his way.

 

Because of the blood and life energies he had absorbed from his bath, Luca managed to hike a full day through the rocky and icy terrain. While he tried to avoid the wild beasts lurking in the shadows, crags and rock formations, he knew it would not take long before he would need to kill. The thought of killing was abhorrent to him, but he knew he would have no choice.

 

It was around noon—or what passed for midday in perpetually twilit Niflheim—that Luca sensed the presence of something—or _someone_ —following him. At first, he could feel this mysterious other's curiosity, wondering perhaps who he was and what he was doing wandering through the ice. He had felt the stealthy approach followed by shock and outright hostility, having seen that the object of his curiosity was, in fact, a Jotun.

 

Luca had been expecting an attack. Instead, this stranger decided to tail him, probably waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

 

That chance came when Luca reached the narrow ice bridge which traversed a gap in the ice. This gap widened, if one were to follow its length for several meters, into the gaping chasm that was Ginnungagap. But make no mistake. Even this small fissure was a bottomless pit.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Luca saw a large, bulky shadow bounding toward him. With a swift, graceful turn, he whipped both his sword and one dagger out. Raising his weapons, he blocked the descent of a long-handled sledgehammer, the blocky head of which was about to brain him.

 

It was at this moment that they were at a deadlock that he beheld his pursuer's features. With his ruddy complexion, long, blond hair and light beard, he was definitely an Aesir.

 

"Why do you follow me, stranger?" Luca demanded between gritted teeth as he firmly planted his feet on the ground beneath the ice. The Aesir was incredibly strong, and already his arms were feeling the strain.

 

"You're a Jotun, aren't you?" the stranger answered in a low growl. "I wanted to know what you're up to, far as you are from Utgard. Now that you're about to cross Ginnungagap, I am certain of your intent. You're planning to spy on my people on orders of Ymir and his Blood Mage."

 

 ** _"WHAT?"_** There was no mistaking the fact that the derogatory sobriquet was directed at him. As shocked as he was by that name, Luca was insulted and infuriated more, and he shoved the stranger back.

 

The Aesir actually looked surprised that a skinny runt of a Jotun had managed to push him off. "You know who I'm talking about. The Blood Mage is Ymir's second-in-command. He's the one who has been commanding the Frost Giants to attack the Aesir settlements opposite the yawning void."

 

Luca was outraged. "I beg your pardon! It is you Aesir who have been plundering our border villages! They have every right to defend themselves!"

 

" ** _A LIE!_** We have long wanted a truce with your realm! My father has been sending emissaries to Utgard, but none of them returned! One of them was my friend! That's why I came here to Niflheim—to find out for myself what happened to him and the others! He was probably slaughtered by the Blood Mage!"

 

 ** _"I DID NO SUCH THING!_** I would never kill innocent lives, much more an emissary from King Buri! I want nothing but peace between the Jotuns and the Aesir!"

 

The stranger let out a mocking laugh. "Are you telling me that a Jotun runt like you is the Blood Mage? You are deluded!"

 

That second insult raised Luca's hackles. "I don't need my seiðr to defeat a blundering oaf like you! **_YAAAAH!_** "

 

Just as the snowstorm struck, it was Luca's turn to attack, launching into a graceful but deadly dance of flashing blades. This time, it was the Aesir's turn to register surprise as he found himself on the defensive. Because of his larger, heavier weapon, his counter attacks were much slower. As a result, his adversary was not only able to evade his blows, but he would also just as quickly turn back, find an opening, and inflict a slash upon his skin. It also did not help that the falling snow hampered his vision, and the Jotun's movements were swift, accustomed as he was to the erratic weather patterns in Niflheim.

 

Luca had no idea how long he fought the Aesir. It could be just a few minutes or several hours. But there was no denying that even with their physical and martial arts differences, they were evenly matched. He could break the stalemate with seiðr if only to stop this fruitless fight, knowing that he was draining his reserves which might cause the freezing reaction of his body to start at any minute. But pride and stubbornness made him hold back with his magic.

 

Suddenly, Luca saw the Aesir run toward what looked like a large pile of rocks, with the intention of loosening a boulder in the side to hurl at him.

 

 ** _"NO! STOP, YOU FOOL!"_** the mage cried in warning as the stranger lifted his sledgehammer. The hammer came down with a deafening crash, causing rocks to topple along the side.

 

Then, an enormous hoar grazer thundered out of the hole hidden beneath the rubble with a furious roar, butting both rocks and the Aesir aside with its great tusks protruding from each corner of its gaping mouth. Blinded with rage, it attacked the first thing it saw, namely Luca.

 

As the beast charged, Luca let his weapons fall to the snow, lifting his right hand in a placating gesture and reaching out to its mind with a soothing seiðr spell. He was never able to reach the beast. The Aesir had crept up behind the hoar grazer and leaped high with hammer raised above his head.

 

 ** _"NOOOOO!"_** Luca screamed, but it was too late. He gaped, horrified, as the Aesir cracked the beast's skull open with his hammer, brain and blood splattering all over the shocked Jotun prince.

 

It was the Aesir's turn to be stunned when he saw the blood disappear into his opponent's skin and his green eyes turn a bright, fiery red.

 

 ** _"YOU!"_** he gasped out, pointing at Luca with a shaking finger. **_"YOU TRULY ARE THE BLOOD MAGE!"_**

 

With his body partially revitalized by the powerful life energy of the hoar grazer, Luca lunged at his adversary, digging his fingers deep into the other man's throat. **_"DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE? LOOK OVER THERE!"_**

 

The trembling Aesir reluctantly obeyed and turned his gaze toward the rock formation he had destroyed. There were two small pairs of glowing eyes staring back at him through the shadows. His jaw dropped aghast when two baby hoar grazers tumbled out of the hole and ran, wailing, toward the dead beast, prodding the still form with their noses.

 

"A hoar grazer is not a carnivore!" Luca hissed in the Aesir's face. "She attacked because she was protecting her young!"

 

"I…I didn't know!"

 

"Because you're a stupid, bumbling fool who doesn't think before he acts!" A look of distaste crossed Luca's face, feeling the freezing cold creeping up his free arm which had not been splattered with blood. As disgusted as he was to perform his ablutions before an enemy, he had no choice.

 

Luca released the Aesir abruptly and let him fall coughing to the ground. Without saying a word, he walked slowly toward the fallen beast, peeling off his furs and inner garments one by one before finally stepping out of his boots. Behind him, he could feel the Aesir's awe at the sight of his blue skin, braided dark blue hair, and lithe figure. He bent down and picked up his fallen sword, slicing the hoar grazer's belly open so that its innards spilled out. With his magic, Luca willed the beast's blood to drain into its hollow abdominal cavity, like a tub being filled with water. He then stepped inside the cavity and settled down into the thick pool of hot blood, rubbing the fluid on every inch of his skin and absorbing a respectful amount.

 

"Please don't watch," Luca begged the Aesir, who was staring at him through open blue eyes. But he did not turn his head away. To the mage's dismay and embarrassment, the combination of hot blood and the Aesir's intense stare was arousing him, something that never happened to him before.

 

Luca gingerly stepped out of the beast's belly, taking care that the Aesir did not see the hardness between his legs. Before he could burn the hoar grazer away with his seiðr, cold noses brushed against his bare legs. The babies looked up at him plaintively and in clear hunger. With his sword, he slashed their dead mother's udders and milk oozed out. As Luca cupped his hands in order to fill them with the nourishing fluid, some of the milk trickled down the front of his body. A crimson blush formed on his cheeks when the babies leaped at him—causing him to spill the milk he had gathered on his chest—and hungrily lapped and suckled upon his breasts.

 

"Here, let me help you." To Luca's surprise, the Aesir picked up the protesting babies in his brawny arms and settled down cross-legged before him. He tried to position the younglings on his lap like Aesir infants, but they were wriggling frantically.

 

"Give one to me," Luca offered, and the Aesir handed one baby over.

 

Together, they filled their hands with milk and let the babies lap at it in their palms. They fed the baby hoar grazers in silence until the two younglings lay snoring in their embrace. With the babies asleep, the mage burned away their mother's body until it was a pile of ash blown away by the dying stormwinds.

 

It was Luca who ultimately broke the troubling silence. "If I had a choice, I never would've wanted to be born this way. A Blood Mage…as you have called me. Feared, hated and despised. I would rather die than allow anything—or anyone—to be sacrificed in order to prolong my life. I've been trying to find a cure for my…condition, but—" A sob escaped his throat. He embraced the baby hoar grazer tightly, so that it exhaled softly from the compression. Remembering though that he was in the company of an enemy, Luca straightened up and hastily wiped away the tears that were forming in his eyes. "I have had my father swear to me, however, that he would only give me the blood of the beasts that they had hunted for food for the dining hall of Utgard."

 

Rather than hear an angry dissent, the Aesir inquired curiously, "Why? What will happen to you if you don't bathe in blood?"

 

"I will literally turn into ice and freeze to death. My body is not strong enough to contain the seiðr that flows through my veins. The heat of the blood and the life energies of the creature from which it came somehow stop the progression of the freezing. I've tried everything on my own body—herbs, energy manipulation. I even tried to create artificial blood. But none of them worked. After a time of endless frustration, I could no longer stomach getting into the bathing room, even if I know that I need to bathe in blood in order to survive."

 

"Is that why you're here, far away from Utgard? You want to die?"

 

"Of course not!" Luca answered back heatedly. He lowered his voice. "I won't be a hypocrite. I still want very much to live. But I could no longer be a partner to my father's schemes. He…he **_wants_** me…" He shook his head. "No, never! On my life, there will never, ever be another Blood Mage after me."

 

"I'm sorry. I don't understand."

 

"Of course you don't understand because you're an idiot! If you possessed any brains, you would've known that a hoar grazer had made a den inside those rocks."

 

"I'm not that stupid. It's more of ignorance on my part, and for that I am truly sorry." The Aesir glanced down at the baby sleeping peacefully on his lap. "What's going to happen to them?"

 

"Don't worry. I've already sent out the call. I'm sure someone will come."

 

As soon as he said this, there was the sound of soft, but heavy footsteps approaching them from behind. Ignoring the wide-eyed look on the Aesir's face, Luca stood up and faced the great herd of hoar grazers. Bowing low, he humbly held out the baby, making grunting noises. The leader of the herd stepped forward and lowered his head as well, pressing his brow against Luca's forehead.

 

"Thank you," Luca said, smiling, as he laid the baby at its feet. He gestured to the Aesir. "Come! Give me the little one in your arms. The herd will adopt these younglings and care for them."

 

The Aesir stood up and handed the second baby to Luca. He was forced to step back though when the leader let out an angry honk and nearly struck him down with a tusk.

 

"He said that if you bring harm to any of his kin, he shall personally have your life as recompense," Luca put in helpfully.

 

From his position on the ground, the Aesir said nervously, "Yes, I understand it perfectly."

 

A female hoar grazer approached the two sleeping babies and nudged them awake. Making pitiful, wailing noises, the babies curled up against the female's legs. She bowed to Luca, a distinctive smile curling up her lips. With the well-being of the babies finally assured, the herd turned around and marched back to where they came, the leader following them, but not before giving the mage one last bow, to which Luca gave him a tender rub in gratitude on his nose.

 

When the herd had finally disappeared from view, Luca gathered his clothes together and started putting them on again. Noting the quizzical expression on the Aesir's face, he sighed and answered his unspoken question, "I'm going back to Utgard."

 

The Aesir gasped at that blunt reply. "But why? I thought you wanted to leave Utgard because of your father."

 

"After what you had told me—about those missing emissaries, your friend? If what you say is true, then it is my responsibility to find out what happened to them."

 

Luca had just finished donning his knife belt and slung his sword in its sheath at his back when a strong hand gripped his arm. He frowned, seeing the visible concern written on the Aesir's face.

 

"I will not have you do something that is disagreeable to you," he declared. "This is my quest."

 

"Ymir hates the Aesir. He will kill you on sight," Luca stated bluntly. "No, it would be better that I do the investigating. What can you tell me about your friend, the emissary?"

 

"His name is Jurek Olafsson. He is the same age as I. He wears a clasp with a lightning bolt on it—my gift to him."

 

"I'll do everything I can to determine his and the others' fates. In the meantime, you should return to your realm. Tell me your name and I shall send word to you."

 

"I am Thorbolt Burisson," the Aesir introduced himself. "And, no, I shall not go back to my kingdom, not while you are risking your life on my account."

 

"If that is your wish, I will not stop you. There is a small cave not far from here. Just follow this narrow fissure of Ginnungagap. You won't miss it. When I have learned something, I shall come to you."

 

"Thank you. May I please know your name as well, so that I would know to whom I owe a debt of gratitude?" The Aesir actually looked embarrassed. "I do not wish to call you by the title you so hate."

 

"My name is Luca Ymirsson," the mage replied, slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

 

Luca barely held back his gasp when Thorbolt took his hand and gave his fingertips a tender kiss. His breath caught in his throat, seeing the warm, broad smile on the handsome Aesir's face.

 

"Again, my sincerest thanks, Luca."

 

Luca swiftly turned around before Thorbolt could see the blush on his cheeks. "You have nothing to thank me for, Thorbolt. I will do what I must."

 

The mage did not wait for the Aesir's reply. Instead, he willed himself back to Utgard using a teleportation spell.

 

When he finally arrived at the castle, Luca used an invisibility spell to sneak past the guards at the gates, materializing in the hall on the third floor where his suites were located. He was not at all surprised to find Ymir waiting for him, leaning against his door with his beefy blue arms folded over his broad chest.

 

"Your presence was missed at the banquet hall, Luca," the Frost Giant patriarch pointedly remarked. "We thought we wouldn't be seeing you again. Ever."

 

"That had been my hope too," Luca muttered, not hiding his resentment and throwing an unspoken curse at the charming Aesir who had thwarted his plans. "But the energies at Ginnungagap had been aggravated by the snowstorm. I couldn't cross the bridge."

 

Luca was going to brush past his father, but a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and hard fingers began squeezing painfully. The mage merely glowered back, his face devoid of the pain he was feeling even as that grip threatened to break his collarbone.

 

"Where have you been, Luca?" Ymir asked, his voice low and intimidating.

 

"Wherever I've been, Father," the mage began with equal menace, "it wasn't far enough. Now… ** _UNHAND ME!_** "

 

Because of the hoar grazer's life energy, Luca had the strength to shake off Ymir's hold. As he marched inside his chamber, his father shouted, **_"I have killed the guards who were negligent in their duty, Luca! I'd think twice about fleeing again if I were you!"_**

**_"And you should think twice before you lie and keep secrets from me, Father!"_** Luca yelled back, and he slammed his door shut, reinforcing it with a barrier spell just as Ymir started pounding on it with his massive fists.

 

**_"YOUR BROTHERS HAVE ACCEDED TO MY CLAIM OVER YOU, LUCA! I SHALL MAKE YOU MY CONSORT AND I SHALL SEE YOUR OBSTINATE WILL BROKEN!"_ **

****

Luca, whose back was pressed against the door, felt his teeth rattle with every hard punch on the thick ice. "Pray that I do not learn that you had done something to those Aesir emissaries!" he muttered ominously. "You wouldn't want to suffer the wrath of the Blood Mage of Utgard!"

 

He waited in irritated patience for his father's tirade to subside. When he heard the sound of stomping, departing footsteps, it was only then that Luca stepped away from the door. Tossing his pack in the corner, he strode inside his bathing room and stripped. He stepped into the granite tub and positioned himself underneath the carved shower head, letting the cool water sluice down his tense, tired body.

 

Almost unconsciously, Luca lifted his hand to his face, the same hand which the Aesir Thorbolt Burisson had kissed earlier. Before he realized what he was doing, he had pressed his fingertips to his lips, mimicking Thorbolt's kiss. His eyes flew wide at what he had done, and he quickly lowered his hand. To his greater mortification, his member stirred and he could feel the velvet orifice concealed between his thighs fill with wetness.

 

"Damn it! Did that Aesir cast a spell on me?" Luca groaned miserably. Pouting, he sank down into the tub and curled into himself, wrapping his legs close to his body. "Well, if he had ensorcelled me, then the spell would wane with time. I did promise him, after all, that I would investigate the disappearances of those emissaries. There is absolutely no need for me to see him so soon until I have something substantial to report." The mage nodded firmly. "Yes, that's what I'm going to do."

 

And yet, the following evening, Luca was again trudging through the snow, heading for the cave where Thorbolt was hiding. The Aesir, who was then enjoying a humble repast of herb stew, gaped at the mage in surprise over his steaming bowl.

 

Luca lifted the pouch he was carrying. "I brought you some smoked meat and other food items. I should've known that you're capable of fending for yourself."

 

Thorbolt set his bowl down beside his seat, stood up, and graciously took the pouch from Luca's hand. "Your thoughtfulness is much appreciated, Luca." There was a bright twinkle in his blue eyes as he inquired, "May I kiss your hand again by way of showing my gratitude?"

 

"Uhurm, it is not really necessary, but…if you insist…" Luca slowly raised his hand to the Aesir. As Thorbolt pressed his lips to those long, slender fingers, his eyes remained fixed on the Jotun before him, even after he had brought Luca's hand down.

 

Luca inwardly growled in frustration. _Damn everything to Niflheim!_

 

He leaned forward then, his hands gripping Thorbolt's cheeks as he planted a passionate, desperate kiss upon the startled Aesir's lips. Realizing what he had done, Luca was going to withdraw in embarrassment. To his credit, however, not only did Thorbolt hold on to the Jotun, he kissed Luca back just as deeply, dipping his tongue playfully inside the welcoming mouth.

 

Luca's lips were still parted when Thorbolt ended the kiss, his breaths coming in little pants.

 

After an uncomfortable silence, Thorbolt inquired worriedly, "Please forgive me. I have overstepped my boundaries."

 

"No, no. There's nothing for you to apologize. In fact…" Luca looked up at Thorbolt then, his emerald eyes shining and a sweet smile on his lips. "…If that's the kind of thanks I'm going to get whenever I bring you supplies, I suppose I must do it more often."

 

Thorbolt's hearty laugh was like the rumble of thunder. What the Aesir said next caused a pretty blush to color the mage's high cheekbones. "Then I should think of more pleasing ways to show you my appreciation for your thoughtfulness and kindness."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The next couple of weeks saw Luca conducting a discreet investigation on the Aesir emissaries that Thorbolt informed him about. Because there were too many eyes and ears in Utgard, there were very few Jotuns whom he could trust. Also, since Luca's nightly jaunts might ultimately be detected by Ymir, he and the Aesir agreed that the mage should only go to him when he learned something of significance.

 

After the first three days though, this was easier said than done. A strange tugging in Luca's heart could not abide his being away from the Aesir for so long. It was a feeling that was also shared by Thorbolt apparently, because Luca literally bumped into him behind the temple one evening, the Aesir having braved to enter Utgard's perimeter just to catch a glimpse of him. Both realized then that the need to be with each other was stronger and, more for Luca's safety, they decided to make their trysts somewhere closer, in a magically cloaked ice abode halfway between Utgard and Ginnungagap.

 

Now, as he sat in the castle archives, Luca found himself restless, tapping his feet under the desk, eager to meet up with the Aesir.

 

Jotun archivist Havar saw the look of dreamy distraction on the mage's face as he approached him with ice tablets in his arms. "You should smile more often, Luca. It makes you more beautiful, more…approachable."

 

"That is why I rarely smile, good Havar," Luca began in polite explanation. "I don't want any Jotun to harbor any specific…interests…in me. It's difficult enough fending off my father and my brothers' perverse attentions."

 

"Yes, His Majesty had already proclaimed to his royal advisers and everyone in court that you will be his Consort."

 

"He did **_WHAT?_** The nerve of him going behind my back and making such a ridiculous announcement! **_HMMPH!_** He's deluding himself if he thinks that I would allow that to happen!" As the tablets were laid on the desk before him, Luca peered at the carved runes and inquired, "Did you find something?"

 

Havar pointed out names on the tablets. "There have been sixteen emissaries who have come to our realm from King Buri. All of them expressed the Aesir monarch's desire for peace between his realm and Utgard. But, as you already know, King Ymir rejected these pleas for a peace treaty."

 

"True," Luca agreed, grimacing. "I dissented strongly before Father and the Court during the audience with the first emissary Bartok. Since then, Ymir has forbidden me from attending Court, except on military matters. Do any of the documents say what happened to the emissaries after?"

 

"Absolutely nothing. According to these tablets, they were dismissed by the King with messages for Buri. The guard records all revealed that these emissaries departed from Utgard immediately after seeing the King."

 

Luca sighed and leaned backward against the backrest of his seat. He could not tear his green eyes away from the name of Jurek Olafsson—Thorbolt's friend—carved in runes on one ice tablet. What could have happened to them?

 

"Luca…"

 

The mage looked up, and he was struck by the kind concern on the old Jotun's face. Truth be told, Havar was more of a father to him than Ymir. "What is it?"

 

"It's been six, seven years since you reached your age of maturity, am I correct?" Havar began, slightly embarrassed.

 

"More like ten years actually."

 

"Have you ever not felt the desire…no, the need…to-"

 

Luca knew what the Jotun archivist was struggling to say. "To mate…to copulate? To be honest, no. Never, in fact. Even with Vegar—wherever he is, I hope he forgives me—I have never felt the sincere desire. Yes, I held some affection for him. But, my decision to mate with him was purely for…practical…purposes. Why are you asking me this, Havar? It's not that we Frost Giants are prone to cycles of estrus like beasts."

 

"No, no. It's not that," Havar quickly countered, shaking his head. "It's just that…I've been wondering about your condition for quite some time now."

 

"And?"

 

"For you, essentially, the blood is life. Without it, the icy seiðr in your veins would've surely killed you. But…a man's fluids…it is also life because it contains the seed necessary to produce offspring. Perhaps, if you were to find someone…compatible…it might cure you. Perhaps someone with a power similar to yours."

 

"Interesting thought, Havar. But, since the only person with a power that equals mine is Ymir himself, I'd rather not. And don't you go telling him this preposterous notion of yours. It will only strengthen his contention that I should be his Consort, even if he is my father."

 

"I'm not talking about Ymir, Luca. However, maybe it is because of your father's unwanted attentions that you have closed your heart to the possibility of…well, love."

 

Luca chuckled. "You are a romantic, Havar. There could be no love for someone like me. I will only be desired for the power that I possess. More will hate me because of it. Sometimes, I wonder if it would be for everyone's greater benefit if I died."

 

Havar fell to his knees, placing his hands on Luca's shoulders. Such was the size of his limbs that two of his fingers dropped to the mage's arms. "Don't you say that, Luca! True, life may seem difficult now. But I believe that you were brought into this world for a reason."

 

"For what other purpose that a being such as I was born into this world than to be a destroyer, a killer," Luca answered with deep abhorrence. "Nay, my friend. If this is the Fate that the Norns have woven for me, then I reject it with all my heart and I will fight it with every ounce of will I possess."

 

The mage was about to say more when one of the tablets on the far corner of the Jotun archivist's table caught his eye. Picking it up, he looked at the runes one by one. "What is this?" he asked, frowning.

 

Havar stood up and leaned over his desk to see what had captured the mage's interest. "It is an accounting of all the animals and beasts that have been caught during His Majesty's hunts."

 

"This mark…" Luca pointed to a rune he had not seen before. "What does it mean?"

 

"Uhm…those were the beasts that were used specifically to supply your blood baths."

 

Luca felt a chill creep up his spine and at first he thought it was the freezing reaction starting again. When nothing happened after waiting for a few moments, he commanded the elder Jotun, "Show me the accounting for those days when the emissaries came to our realm."

 

Havar hastened to comply and returned with five more tablets. One by one, Luca read the entries, his dread increasing as each of his fears were confirmed.

 

For a full month or two following the emissaries' mysterious disappearances, there had been no hunts for the mage's blood baths.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Ever since Vegar's tragic demise, Luca had never set foot inside Utgard's slaughterhouse. The memory of those frost boars hanging from hooks and slowly being drained of blood was still too vivid inside his mind.

 

With only two days past since the last hunt, the slaughterhouse was mercifully empty. Still, the dark stone and ice structure reeked of blood and death, even if the whole place was scoured clean.

 

As Luca made his way through the large chopping slabs, he dared not look at those gleaming hooks hanging from the ceiling. With only a small mage fire to light his way, his overactive imagination was conjuring up ghosts wanting their revenge upon him for the lives they had lost.

 

It was while he was inspecting a shelf with a variety of huge knives that his left foot brushed against something. Squatting down, Luca reached for the round metal object lying on the icy floor. As his fingers closed around it, his mind was instantly inundated by horrible visions.

 

_Of a proud, young Aesir emissary come at the behest of his King and his best friend in order to broker a truce with the Frost Giant who was the Father to them All…_

_Of bitter failure in his mission in the face of Ymir's rejection and his mocking laughter, which continued to follow him even as he rode out of Utgard's gates…_

_Of an ambush before he crossed Ginnungagap and his helplessness as he watched his escorts slaughtered with mace and ice swords before he too was felled by a blade in the side…_

_Of the poor emissary hanging upside down inside the slaughterhouse, his spine severed by an impaling hook. His butchers had used his healing powers to their advantage, creating gaping but non-fatal wounds from which poured his life blood. Whenever the wounds closed, they would be re-opened and new ones slashed elsewhere, repeating the process over and over in an unending nightmare…_

_Of his final hours when his body's healing abilities had completely broken down and could no longer cope with the tortures and abuse. With his dying breath, the emissary asked for forgiveness from the prince who was his friend and cursed the hated being whose life his blood had sustained._

Luca stumbled to a dark corner and vomited violently. When there was nothing left but dry heaves, he burst into tears. He clutched the clasp in his hands tightly. As the pin pierced his flesh, he could feel his body reacting to the pain and the mental anguish of his guilt.

 

This time, Luca wanted the ice to consume him, and—

 

 ** _No!_** The mage leaped to his feet, forcing the freezing process to halt its progression. **_If I am to die, it should be by his hands!_**

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

The blizzard struck Utgard so swiftly and without warning, catching the Frost Giants—who were familiar with the signs of their realm's prickly weather—completely off guard. In their haste to find shelter inside their stronghold, they never saw the tiny figure that managed to squeeze through the crack of the closing gates and disappear in a flurry of snow once it was outside.

 

In truth, Luca should not even be traversing the hidden pathways in such a fierce snowstorm. With its rage fueled as it was by Ginnungagap's energies—and further aggravated by the mage's distraught state of mind—there was a great risk that the blizzard might tear his body apart while in between worlds. That is, if the freeze that was enveloping his being does not consume him first.

 

But Luca would not die, certainly not from the ferocity of the storm or by his own body's flaw.

 

Thorbolt must have sensed his coming because the Aesir emerged from his makeshift lodging just as the mage materialized from the pathways.

 

 ** _"LUCA! WHAT ARE YOU—"_** Thorbolt never got to finish what he was going to say, as his gloved hands closed around Luca's arms and instead found solid ice.

 

The mage quickly wriggled free from the Aesir's grasp. "No! Don't you touch me! You might freeze!"

 

But the Aesir paid no heed to his entreaties. Wrapping Luca up in his red cloak, Thorbolt carried the mage inside his humble dwelling of ice. As the fur flap over the doorway closed, shutting out the wind and snow, he laid Luca before the fireplace.

 

As he was rubbing the mage briskly with his cloak, hoping to warm him up even further, Luca shook his head. "No, Thorbolt. Don't. There's no need for you to save me. I came…because I want to die by your hand."

 

"Luca, don't you say such a thing," Thorbolt argued, not relenting in his care, unwanted though it may be. "You're a very good friend. Perhaps…much more." Those three words were barely audible. "I have no reason to kill you."

 

Luca tilted his hand to the side. His tears fell as icy drops upon the floor when he beheld the horror on the Aesir's face upon seeing the familiar clasp the mage was holding in his hand. Blood trickled from the spot where the clasp's pin had pierced his palm.

 

"Here is your reason," Luca said softly. "Please, Thorbolt. Take your vengeance now."

 

The Jotun watched in anticipation as the Aesir slowly reached for his sledgehammer, only to pause.

 

With his fingers closed tightly around the handle, Thorbolt asked, "How long have you known?"

 

"I came immediately to you as soon as I found out. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Luca could not hold back his sobs. "The emissaries…your friend…he suffered terribly. This clasp held his memories. Jurek…he was cut open again and again until his healing power gave out, his blood drained from him so I could…" He lifted his tear-filled green eyes to the Aesir. "Thorbolt, I'm begging you. I want all these deaths to stop. I cannot bear that another life will be sacrificed for me. I cannot live, knowing that my prolonged life is the result of the slaughter of your people!" Luca clutched the sleeves of Thorbolt's shirt. "Please! End my life now! When I have turned into ice, take your hammer and smash me into a thousand pieces!"

 

The Aesir did not act at first. Then, to Luca's dismay, not only did he release his hold on his hammer; he eased the mage back down on the floor.

 

Peeling off his gloves, Thorbolt said firmly, "If Jurek and the emissaries had died by your own hand I would've torn your head from your body and shattered it to bits, even without the ice. But, you never knew what Ymir had done, did you?"

 

"No," Luca confirmed with an emphatic headshake. "If I had, I would've put a stop to it, even at cost to my own life for disobeying my father. However, my ignorance does not negate the fact that innocent lives were lost, and that it was those same lives which had extended my own."

 

"In your very words, you have said that their lives have become yours, Luca. Honor their sacrifice—unwilling though they may have been—by living and undoing your father's evil."

 

"But Thorbolt…" Luca could no longer argue back as the ice sealed his lips shut.

 

Thorbolt moved hurriedly then. Before the ice could envelope the mage's whole head, the Aesir pressed his mouth to those frozen lips. Luca's eyes flew wide as a light tingling coursed through his lips, the sensation radiating across his cheeks, and up to his forehead and down to his chin. That tingling was accompanied by heat which slowly melted the ice, so that Luca could again move his eyelids and mouth. That tingly sensation and warmth descended to his neck, enabling the mage to lift his head to see what the Aesir was doing.

 

To his amazement, Thorbolt's hands were glowing with pure, white energy. From his fingertips extruded crackling bolts of lightning. As he ran his hands over Luca's bare arms, the heat of the lightning bolts cracked and melted the ice. However, the freezing process refused to be stopped.

 

"That's enough, Thorbolt! Let the ice take me!"

 

**_"I AM NOT GOING TO LET YOU DIE!"_ **

 

At these stubborn, determined words, Thorbolt removed all of Luca's clothes, his blue eyes grimly taking in the near crystalline form of the Jotun's body. He then divested himself of his own clothing, at the same time willing the elemental energies to suffuse his being so that he was transformed into a beautiful, unearthly creature of pure lightning.

 

Gently, Thorbolt lowered himself upon the weeping mage. Kissing away the tears from Luca's eyes, he whispered tenderly, "I love you, Luca! I'll be damned if I lose you!"

 

And Luca could do nothing but surrender in the face of the Aesir's frank desire and determination.

 

Covering the mage's body with his own, Thorbolt sent the lightning forking over Luca's skin, melting the ice that had formed on the surface and letting the energies seep through the pores. Whenever the Aesir felt the moisture between their skins start to freeze again, Thorbolt would press down harder, sending more of the lightning flowing into the Jotun.

 

The heat and the tingling of electricity were causing sensations to arise in Luca, feelings that the mage had never felt before, even with his lost lover. All Luca knew was that he wanted more; no, he wanted **_everything_** that the Aesir could give him.

 

Both men never knew exactly when healing kisses and touches turned into a desperate twining of limbs. One moment, Luca lay frozen still on the floor; the next, his arms were clinging hard to Thorbolt's brawny neck, his lips and tongue eagerly plundering the Aesir's mouth. A brief parting for what Luca thought was a breath of air was followed immediately by a hot tongue licking trails down the muscular curves of his chest. He let out a gasp as warm, moist lips suckled greedily upon his nipples, letting tingling energy flow into the taut nubs. At the same time, Thorbolt's left palm caressed his flat belly, the lightning causing the muscles to contract, while a fingertip playfully poked into the hollow of his navel, tickling it with energy.

 

Carefully, Thorbolt turned Luca over so that he was on his hands and knees. A blunt fingertip pressed against the tight opening of his ass followed by a luscious jolt which numbed and relaxed his sphincters, just enough for the Aesir to push through with his cock, despite his enormous size. Luca felt no pain, even when Thorbolt impaled him repeatedly. Instead, there was nothing but that delicious tingling which consumed his being whereas earlier there was only the ice and the cold. And, yet, his body could not be quenched, even when his insides were flooded by the Aesir's hot spill.

 

"It's not enough," Luca gasped out hoarsely. Turning onto his back, he reached down between his thighs, opening his legs wide. Spreading the velvet lips of his female orifice with two fingers, he muttered, "Here, Thorbolt. Fill me here."

 

Thorbolt was only too happy to obey. With a blissful sigh, he plunged into Luca hard and deep, reveling in the contradiction that while the Jotun's skin was icy cold, his moist channel was scalding heat. Grunting softly, he thrust inside Luca, the head of his cock emitting tiny forks of lightning while never failing to strike that sweet spot. The combined thrusts and jolts of energy sent bolts of pleasure streaking throughout the mage's body. When he came, Thorbolt felt Luca's velvet channel milking him spasmodically of every drop of his seed.

 

The blizzard raged on for a full three days. But neither the Aesir nor the Jotun felt its wrath. Instead, they reveled in each other's flesh non-stop with insatiable passion. As Thorbolt gave the mage both life energy and seed, Luca accepted them with gluttonous hunger, a fierce desire which he never experienced whenever he bathed in blood. At one point, in the afternoon of the third day, the Jotun felt an uncomfortable pinching pain in his lower belly, but he attributed it to Thorbolt's exuberant pounding of his womb.

 

On the fourth day, it was Luca who woke up first, sighing in bliss at the heat of the Aesir's slumbering body wrapped around him. But when he lifted his hand to caress Thorbolt's face, he was shocked by the sight before him.

 

"Thorbolt!" Luca cried, unable to hide the panic in his voice. **_"Thorbolt, wake up!"_**

 

The Aesir woke up instantly at that frantic cry, only to have his blue eyes grow round, seeing what had gotten his lover in such a fright.

 

The deep azure color of the mage's skin as well as his lines and ridges have completely disappeared. In its place was the smoothness and pale pink hue of an Aesir's skin.

 

"What did you do to me?" Luca gasped out in utter bewilderment and terror.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

It took some time before Thorbolt was able to calm the mage down. At his suggestion, he asked Luca to use his seiðr to turn his skin color back. Although still trembling at his unexpected transformation, Luca did as he was told. The blue bled back into his skin. Before the Jotun could breathe a sigh of relief, the pink started creeping up his arms again, so that he was forced to push it back harder with his magic. When it still did not work, he used a camouflage spell, conjuring a thin blue coating over his pale skin.

 

"I'm sorry, Luca," Thorbolt said with sincere regret. "I didn't mean to take it this far. I truly didn't know this would happen."

 

"Are you also a mage?" Luca asked in wonder.

 

"Not like you. I know from my mother's examination of my powers that I do not possess seiðr. Instead, my body is imbued with the forces of the elements—thunder and lightning, in particular."

 

"And it is your power that has wrought this change in me." Luca gazed awestruck at the Aesir's ruggedly handsome features. "Is it possible? Could you be the healer, the salvation whom I've long been searching for?"

 

"Maybe. It is my hope that I could free you from this…illness…that is slowly taking your life. This might also mean the fulfillment of your most fervent desire, that the Blood Mage shall be no more."

 

That hated name brought back the memory of his father. "No, Ymir would not want to see me healed, especially if this…change…could eventually mean the loss of my seiðr," Luca replied in sorrow. "I don't even know what he might do to me if he discovers what we have done."

 

Thorbolt gripped the Jotun's arms. "Then you must come with me back to my realm. I shall take you for my Consort. I'm sure my father would approve."

 

"And risk war between the Jotuns and the Aesir?"

 

"Then I shall do the honorable thing and ask Ymir for your hand. You and I are one now, Luca. What is done is done. He has no choice but to give us his blessing."

 

"You don't know my father like I do. His eternal curse would be the very least that he could inflict upon us." The Aesir was about to argue, but Luca pressed his hand to his lips. "Let me take care of Ymir, Thorbolt. Give me a few days to think of a plan."

 

"What if you should change while in Utgard? I cannot let you take the risk!"

 

"Whatever magic you had done during our coupling might still be temporary. Besides, it is a necessary risk that I must take for the both of us." Luca kissed Thorbolt tenderly on the lips. "Let me deal with Father, my love."

 

"You will send word once you have thought of something."

 

"I promise."

 

Their parting, a couple of hours later, was bittersweet and painful, both unable to let go and stop smothering each other's lips with kisses. In the end, it was Luca who pulled away. As he teleported back to Utgard, he saw Thorbolt waving goodbye to him, a sorrowful smile on his face.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Luca had been expecting Ymir's anger when he arrived in Utgard. Knowing his father's foul moods, he did not even bother to think up an excuse to explain his three-day disappearance. Besides, it was Ymir who had much to explain to him about the fate of those emissaries.

 

Still, the mage was shocked by the Frost Giant's fierce backhand the minute he materialized in the courtyard. Such was the strength of the blow that Luca found himself tumbling across the snow a great distance away. For a moment, he thought he had even broken a few bones.

 

Before he could gather his wits together, Ymir jerked Luca to his feet by his hair, tearing loose several clumps with just his two huge fingers alone. As the mage struggled to get free, he saw his elder brothers snickering not too far from them.

 

"I told you that I will not tolerate your disobedience any longer, Luca," Ymir stated, his voice low with fury. He shook his son's head roughly by his long hair so that the mage thought his neck would break. "Now, if you want me to accord you some small mercy, tell me where you've been these past three days."

 

"Where I've been is none of your damned business!" Luca hissed back. He conjured up a frost dagger and slashed his hair free. "Wait! Perhaps it is your business after all. I want to know what you did to those emissaries from King Buri."

 

"Oh, that!" Ymir exclaimed with infuriating casualness. "Yes, Havar had informed me about your sudden interest. But then again, I believe you already know the answer to that. Why waste such excellent Aesir blood when it could be put to better use by Utgard's Blood Mage?"

 

 ** _"DAMN YOU!"_** Luca roared at that hateful confirmation, charging at his father with his dagger.

 

Ymir seized his son's arm and wrenched the blade from his grip. "I see now that I have been too lenient with you. I believe the time is at hand to put you in your place. Within a fortnight, I shall finally take you for my Consort. You need to be reined in, Luca. Perhaps with a good, thorough rutting and my babe growing in your womb, you will become more compliant."

 

"Why wait, you filthy old man?!" Luca sneered at the evil Frost Giant. "Since you are so determined to make me your whore, why not take me now and be done with it? It will be a tender mercy if you do. Your cock will rip me apart and it will give me the death I long desire!" He added slyly, "Or maybe I'll get lucky and I end up freezing your cock."

 

"Don't be in such a hurry, my pretty, pretty boy. I've waited for you for so long. I could wait for fourteen days more. And don't you worry. Preparations will be made so that you will be able to take what I'll give you in our wedding bed, without any untoward circumstances occurring. I have every intention of having my fill of your body and then have you conceive my offspring with the same power that you and I possess."

 

**_"NO! NEVER!"_ **

 

Infuriated and frustrated by his youngest's obstinacy, Ymir half-dragged and half-carried Luca by his arm into the castle. When they reached the mage's chambers, he threw his son inside. "You can forget about escaping. I have placed wards in your rooms. Any attempt to use your magic will rebound on you, hard and painfully. From this day until our union, you shall be attended to by Jotuns I have personally selected." The Frost Giant gave his furious son a most lascivious smirk. "Make the most of what little freedom you have left to learn how you can please me in our bed." Ymir then closed the doors with a resounding bang.

 

Luca rushed to his feet and started pounding and kicking on the doors in a rage. **_"You will never take me, you bastard! Do you hear me? I'll make damned sure that you'll regret laying even a finger on me!"_**

****

The mage banged his fists on the doors and shouted invectives at the top of his lungs. When his fury was finally spent, only then did he slip down to the floor, his tears of helplessness and despair pouring from his anguished green eyes.

 

"Oh, Thorbolt!" Luca sobbed bitterly. "What is to become of us now?"

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Against his will, Luca was swept up in the preparations for his coming nuptials to his very own father. Although confined in his chambers, he was not given a moment's peace and privacy during the daylight hours, with servants coming and going, bearing jewels and the garments he was to wear for the event. The mage eyed with specific distaste the wedding robes that were fitted on him—a gorgeous garment woven from the silk of ice spiders' webs with glittering snowflakes linked together by thin silver chains. His blood baths became a lavish affair, with his personal attendants seeing to his ablutions, carefully scrubbing the crimson fluid into his skin and combing his now nape-length hair into a glossy sheen. Since he was accustomed to taking his baths alone, he doubted if they ever noticed how the blood just sluiced down his body like ordinary water instead of being absorbed by his skin.

 

Luca, however, underestimated Ymir's capacity for perversion. He only understood what his father meant by "preparations for their wedding bed" when, one evening, a group of Jotun healers marched inside his chambers without even a by our leave, carrying cylindrical instruments of increasing diameters, so that their purpose could not be mistaken for any other. Despite the threat to his own person from the wards his father had set, Luca fought the healers, drove them shouting and protesting from his rooms with vicious spells, even as they rebounded on him. The healers never returned after that, but the mage had exhausted himself, so that he could barely maintain the spell that concealed his skin color.

 

It was only in the evenings that Luca found peace. But in his solitude, he could not help thinking about his lover. If only he could send a message to Thorbolt, tell him to return home to his realm and forget about him. Havar, the one Jotun he could have entrusted the message to, was banned from visiting him.

 

However, on the seventh day, it was the Jotun archivist who witnessed the arrival of a stranger to Utgard. Havar had a brief glimpse of long blond hair before the stranger was ushered into the presence of King Ymir.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

The day that Luca dreaded has finally come. All Utgard was bustling with activity for the momentous occasion. Servants were cleaning the grounds and preparing for the feasts. Jotun warriors marched along the stronghold's perimeter and in the courtyard, watchful for any intruders that may disrupt the proceedings.

 

Inside his chambers, Luca was gritting his teeth in annoyance at his attendants' intrusiveness.

 

"Your Highness, your bath is ready," one of the females whispered in his ear. "And it is a most special bath, one that His Majesty has taken great pains to prepare for you."

 

"Keep your sly mouth away from my face, woman!" The mage stood up from his dresser table. "I order you all to leave! Right now!"

 

"But Your Highness…The King…He has commanded us to…"

 

**_"I DON'T CARE! GIVE ME PEACE OR I SWEAR I'LL TURN YOU ALL INTO ICE!"_ **

 

When none of them moved, Luca extended both hands and sent freezing beams shooting at them. The attendants fled helter skelter toward the doors. The beams ricocheted from the doors' surface and zipped back toward the mage, but Luca deflected them with a swiftly raised shield.

 

Distasteful as it was for him to bathe in blood, Luca needed the energy it contained. If he were to escape from Utgard, he would need to replenish his reserves and have his seiðr at full strength.

 

Entering the bathing chamber, Luca beheld the rich crimson fluid awaiting him. By all appearances, it looked like the other blood baths he had taken in the past. But as he stared at that deep, red color, he could not shake away the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

 

Slowly and cautiously, Luca stepped into the bath, every inch of his body sinking into that rich bubbling pool. As he reached the center, the mage was about to sigh in relief, thinking that his fears were unfounded. That this was just an ordinary blood bath.

 

Then, lightning streaked across the surface of the bath. At first, Luca thought it was a mere flicker from the torchlights on the columns. However, another jagged bolt forked through the blood, its pronged tips touching the mage's bare skin. As Luca looked on in horror, lightning bolts rose from the blood, joyously caressing the Jotun's body, turning his skin alternately blue and pink.

 

"No! **_NO!_ " **Luca cried, shaking his head, refusing to believe what these playful lightning bolts meant. **_"It cannot be!"_**

 

But there was no mistaking the aura of love emanating from the lightning and from the blood itself.

 

As blood and lightning seeped into his skin, the mage tried to stop the inward flow with his seiðr. Because the blood belonged to the one man whose stubborn will was equal to Utgard's Blood Mage, Luca could not stem the tide of vital life energy into his body.

 

In a matter of minutes, the pool was completely drained of blood, and Luca knelt at its center, weeping and screaming, his body thrumming with the combined powers of his seiðr and the elements.

 

It was at that moment that Havar hurried into the chamber, having disabled the guards outside. Beholding the mage's despondent state, the archivist realized that Luca already knew what had happened.

 

Conjuring his white wedding garments over his naked form, Luca lifted his head and looked at Havar through bloodshot eyes. "Show me where he is."

 

Somehow, it did not surprise the mage that the archivist guided his teleportation spell toward the slaughterhouse. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for the sight of his beloved Thorbolt hanging upside down from the ceiling with two large hooks embedded in his back. His body was a grotesque canvas of gaping slashes from which trickled the last few precious drops of his blood.

 

With a wave of his hand, Luca dispelled the hooks, and the Aesir was easily caught by Havar, who then laid him in the mage's arms. Desperate, Luca tried to heal the Aesir, but he was already too far gone.

 

This time, it was Thorbolt's turn to say, "That's enough, Luca. No more."

 

"Why, Thorbolt?" Luca sobbed, caressing the Aesir's too pale cheeks. "Why did you come here, you stupid fool?"

 

"Because I wanted to be with you, Luca," Thorbolt whispered. "To claim your hand and heart from your father as the son of King Buri. I wanted to honor you with the purity of my intent by directly pressing my cause to Ymir."

 

"But I told you that Ymir intended to keep me for himself! You should never have come!"

 

"Yes, he did deny me your hand. Instead, I gave him another proposition. If I cannot be with you in life, then I offered my blood instead, so that you will be finally healed of your condition. So that with the mingling of our fluids and life energies, you and I can still be one."

 

"What use is your blood, your life energy to me if you will die? You shouldn't have done this, Thorbolt! I want you alive, not dead! How can I live without you?"

 

"I'll always be with you, my love, although you will no longer see me. I have done my duty. Now, it's your turn to make things right for both our realms."

 

Luca hugged the dying Aesir tightly, his tears streaming down Thorbolt's face. "I love you."

 

"And I love you." With his last shuddering breath, the Aesir said, "Go. I swear to you. I shall be with you…now and forever."

 

As the Aesir fell limp in his arms, the mage let out a keening wail which echoed through the emptiness of the slaughterhouse. Havar could only look on, helpless, as his young ward wept and grieved for his murdered lover. For what seemed like hours, Luca cried and rocked Thorbolt in his arms.

 

Then, his sobs died down, and the mage took a deep, shuddering inhalation. As the Jotun archivist watched, Luca let bright green seiðr pour out from his palms, enveloping the dead Aesir, transforming his body into something smaller, more compact. When the magic dissipated, Luca held in his hands a glowing yellow and green seed the size of a small infant.

 

Handing the seed to Havar, Luca ordered, "I entrust this into your safekeeping. Bring your family and other Jotuns you can convince to escape with you out of Utgard. When this is over, if I survive, I shall retrieve this seed from you."

 

"What are you going to do, Luca?" Havar asked, stunned at the berserker rage in the mage's emerald eyes.

 

"Something I should've done long ago," was Luca's simple reply as he vanished into thin air.

 

Havar did not even have to guess where the Blood Mage had gone, for while he was hurrying his wife, children and his friends' families out of the gates, shouts and screams erupted from inside the castle.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was from the terrified Jotuns who have somehow managed to escape from the castle that Havar learned about what transpired inside the Great Hall.

 

Luca had materialized in the center of the hall in a roaring blaze of green flames, his white wedding robes streaked with the blood of his lover. In his right hand, he held his ice sword while his left gripped the shaft of the Aesir's sledgehammer.

 

Pointing his sword at a defiant Ymir, the Blood Mage declared, "A prophecy I give to you on our wedding day…Father. Your death shall come from the bloodline of the Aesir whom you have so mercilessly slaughtered. From the bits and pieces of your vile body, a new world shall arise. As you have plotted evil upon your children, so shall they and their realms thrive and prosper upon your decaying remains."

 

"Why not kill me yourself…Son?" Ymir taunted him.

 

"As I said, your death is not mine to give. But…" Luca expertly twirled both sword and hammer, assuming a battle stance. "…I intend to make you suffer as he had suffered."

 

And with that, Luca magically sealed all the doors of the Great Hall, and the carnage began. With blade and hammer, the Blood Mage slashed and bludgeoned all those Jotuns who dared to lunge at him. His brothers managed to score hits of their own upon him, but since Thorbolt's blood flowed through his veins, his wounds healed instantaneously. When they charged at him again, he felled them with lightning bolts which transformed their bodies into ash. Terrified by the mage's immense power, the other Jotuns fled through the servants' exits at the back of the hall, but not before turning one last time to behold the Blood Mage leaping high into the air, with weapons raised, as he attacked the Jotun King.

 

The fierce battle between Ymir and Luca lasted for many days and nights. Outside the stronghold, Havar and the Jotuns watched fearfully as the castle's walls and towers crumbled to the ground, unable to withstand the terrible forces that were unleashed by their Progenitor and his offspring.

 

Such was the ferocity of the battle that it caused earthquakes in both Niflheim and Muspelheim. Even the fledgling realm of the Aesir felt the ground shake violently beneath their feet.

 

King Buri, who was then leading his army over Ginnungagap to discover what became of his son in the land of the Frost Giants, somehow managed to cross the great void, even though the gap opened and closed at the magicks that aggravated its already tumultuous energies.

 

The Aesir King arrived just in time to witness the Blood Mage deliver his final blow upon his evil sire. Raising sword and hammer above his head, he sent gigantic forks of lightning into the sky, seizing the lone star in its dark face. As both Jotun and Aesir looked on in awe and terror, the lightning bolts pulled the bright, gigantic star down. Like a fireball, it roared deafeningly as it fell, crashing into Utgard and obliterating it completely. Such was its impact that it sent snow, ice and dust flying for thousands of miles. The Aesir and the Jotun in the vicinity only managed to survive because they had the presence of mind to swiftly erect a shield around them.

 

When the ice and dust settled, they saw a small group of Jotuns fleeing in the distance, bearing on their shoulders the broken body of Ymir, their monarch.

 

Then, Luca himself emerged from the snow cloud, his tattered, blood-drenched robes fluttering in the winds of the destruction which he had caused. Behind him—serving as a perfect backdrop for the frightening mage—the enormous star was a glowing red mound. If one were to look closely, they would see the chipped blade of an ice sword and the blocky head of a sledgehammer, its shaft now broken into a shorter length, melting into its substance.

 

The hushed exchange between two dwarves caught Havar's sharp hearing.

 

"Do you see that thing, Brother?" the first dwarf remarked. "It is pure uru, and brimming with strong magical energies too. It would be the perfect metal for a most powerful weapon."

 

"We should wait for its smoldering embers to die first, and it would take years, perhaps even centuries for that to happen," the second dwarf said ruefully. "In its current state, we cannot handle it."

 

As the mage drew near, the Jotun archivist's crimson eyes grew round in surprise, seeing Luca with the pale skin of an Aesir. His once dark blue locks were now deepest ebony.

 

Taking the seed from Havar's hands, Luca limped toward the stunned Aesir king. Dropping down to his knees before Buri, he declared, "I am Luca Ymirsson, youngest son of Ymir and Blood Mage of Utgard. Your beloved son Thorbolt is dead." He raised the seed. "All that he was—his strength, his courage, his power, and his love for his family and people—I have contained in this seed for you and your descendants to sow when the time is right. To you, I deliver myself for the harshest justice that you could bestow upon me, since it is for me that Thorbolt sacrificed his life."

 

Buri's hands trembled as he took the seed. At first, he refused to believe what the mage had told him. But once he touched the seed and felt his son's life force within, he knew that the Jotun had spoken the truth. With a cry of anguish and fury, Buri raised his axe, about to bring it down upon the mage's bared neck.

 

**_"HUSBAND, NO!"_ **

 

A slender, but strong gauntleted hand stopped the axe's descent. Queen Ragnhild, dressed in warrior's armor as well, went to her grieving husband's side. "Lay down your axe, Buri," she said gently but firmly, "or you will regret it."

 

"He killed our son!"

 

"No, Thorbolt gave up his life for him…and his child."

 

Luca gasped at this revelation, his arms going over his lower body.

 

"You did not know," Ragnhild remarked kindly. She got down on one knee and caressed the mage's tear-stained cheek, using her magical sight to peer into Luca's soul. "This has always been my son's way. He will sacrifice all for those he loves. And Thorbolt loved you the most. He knew that only his life force can arrest your fatal condition. Not only did he gift you with his life, he also gave you a child."

 

"How are we to know that he does not carry Ymir's get?" Buri asked bitterly. "Or some other Jotun's? Isn't this day supposed to be his wedding day?"

 

Havar could no longer condone the insult. "Hold your tongue! Although you are a king, I will not have you speak of His Highness in such a rude manner! Unlike his father and brothers, Luca always conducted himself with honor!"

 

"Is it 'honor' that he seduced my son?"

 

"I **_DID NOT_** seduce Thorbolt!" Luca spoke up in his defense. "I loved him with all my heart! I wanted the ice of my seiðr to consume me, to end my miserable existence, but your son stubbornly refused to give up on me! Now that he's dead, what reason have I to live?"

 

Ragnhild seized his hand and laid it over his belly. "Here is your reason, Luca Ymirsson. Live for your child."

 

The mage shook his head. "But…I cannot…I'm not worthy to be this child's parent."

 

"Of course you're not worthy!" Buri spat out in fury. "You're a murderer!"

 

Luca's face hardened in firm resolve as he gazed up at the angry king. "I know what I am, and I will not use this child to escape the punishment that I deserve. Let me bear this child. Once he or she is born, you may take my head. This oath, I swear to you."

 

 ** _"NO, LUCA!"_** Havar cried.

 

 ** _"HUSBAND, DON'T!"_** Ragnhild began in warning.

 

King Buri, however, had made his decision. "Blood Mage, I accept your oath."

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Luca was taken to Buri's stronghold, hidden between two mountains along the border of Niflheim and Muspelheim, he expected that he would be incarcerated immediately in the dungeons. It would have been the just thing to do, given the angry invectives that were thrown his way by the Aesir who lined up on either side of the courtyard to see the Blood Mage who had murdered their fellows and butchered their honored prince. The only thing that stopped the irate Aesir from hurling trash, mud and dung at him was the stiff form of Queen Ragnhild, who would throw a sharp warning glance at anyone who would dare raise a fist or a rock at their meek prisoner.

 

It was Ragnhild who strongly protested against Luca's being imprisoned in the dungeons.

 

"He murdered our son, woman!" Buri could be heard shouting at the top of his lungs. "Why should I show leniency to the one who was responsible for Thorbolt's death? Who took him away from us?"

 

"He is bearing our son's child!" Ragnhild yelled just as vehemently. "Would you have us lose our precious grandchild as well?"

 

In the end, a compromise was reached. Luca was confined in a closely guarded wing of Ragnhild's choosing inside the castle. The wing that the Queen had chosen for him was near her chambers, his small suite overlooking a modest rock garden.

 

"You can take a pleasant walk out there," Ragnhild encouraged him. "Thorbolt loved my garden too. It's a nice, peaceful place to think, to reminisce."

 

It was also at the Queen's recommendation that Havar and the surviving Jotuns were given a small patch of land outside the castle walls, again guarded by fierce warriors. Havar and his kin were especially given permission to visit Luca regularly. Because of the pregnancy, Ragnhild needed the advice and aid of the Jotun and his wife Unni when the time of the child's birth arrived.

 

Although he was a prisoner, those months in Buri's kingdom proved to be the happiest in Luca's life, excepting the brief time he had spent with Thorbolt. No longer under the evil shadow of his father, Luca was free to do whatever he wished. After spending an entire life of murder and destruction, he geared his seiðr toward creating beautiful illusions.

 

One day, Ragnhild went out into her rock garden to find it alive with vibrant colors and with a sweet fresh scene in the air. Going to where the mage was seated on the carved stone bench, she asked him, "Luca, what are…these?" The Queen gestured to the delicate things at her feet.

 

"I call them 'flowers', Your Majesty," Luca answered simply.

 

The next day, there were creatures running and flying around in the garden, and the mage had names for them all. One by one, he would point them out to the awe-struck Queen. "That fluffy thing is a rabbit. Stalking the rabbit, with its long tail curling in the air, is a cat. That tall one is not a flower but a tree and the tiny creature singing in its branches is a bird. Those colorful things flitting around the flowers are butterflies."

 

Although King Buri wanted nothing to do with his prisoner, he found himself gazing out into the garden one afternoon and reluctantly admiring the magnificent gray beast that was prancing around the mage.

 

Noting the unspoken question on the monarch's face, Luca said, "This is a horse, Your Majesty."

 

"But why does it have eight legs? Most of the beasts that I've seen have only four legs," Buri found himself asking the mage. "Shouldn't you horse have just four?"

 

To this query, Luca just let out a soft laugh and answered cryptically, "You'll see."

 

In due time, Ragnhild's garden became a popular attraction for the children of the realm, who would come daily to see what new illusions the mage had created. Noting that some of the little boys and girls had seiðr lying dormant within them, although not as powerful as the magic as he possessed, Luca suggested to the Queen if he could train them in the use of the power, something which Ragnhild agreed with wholeheartedly. Before long, the mage has a devoted entourage of children testing their latent magic skills in the Queen's garden. Many years later, these same children would establish their own realm and call it Vanaheim. One of them was Njörðr, who would have a son and daughter equally skilled in seiðr, Freyr and Freyja.

 

As Luca's pregnancy progressed, he never expected that Thorbolt would have another surprise for him. It perplexed both Ragnhild and Havar how the mage would shift between being a Jotun and an Aesir. After careful examination by the healers from both realms, they soon discovered that Luca was pregnant with twins, the larger one definitely inheriting the mage's Jotun qualities while the smaller child inherited the features of his Aesir sire. His transformations were due to his body's meeting the needs of each babe.

 

Because of the certain delicacy of the birth, Ragnhild and Unni went about preparing the mage for what was to come.

 

When his breasts began to swell and the first drops of milk blossomed on the tips of his tits, Luca sat in bed with Unni behind him. His face was red with embarrassment as the Jotun demonstrated how he should massage and knead his breasts to express milk and rub oil on his nipples to keep them supple.

 

"It would help to keep the milk flowing freely so that it would be easier for your babes to suckle," Unni explained.

 

To this, Luca would say sadly, "But…I wouldn't have enough time to be with my babies."

 

Both Ragnhild and Unni would fall silent at this statement. Indeed, the mage was living on borrowed time, something which a grieving Buri never failed to remind him of.

 

While Luca was walking out to the garden with a scroll in hand, he met the stern king in the hallway.

 

"I will see your oath fulfilled, Jotun," Buri stated without looking at him.

 

Luca bowed to him obediently. "And I thank you for always reminding me of my solemn promise to you, Great King."

 

In the last few months of his pregnancy, it was deemed wise that Luca should stop teaching the children magic, so that he could rest and his body prepared for the very risky birth ahead. Lonely and with nothing to while his time, the mage would sit in his room or in the garden, caressing his swollen belly as he sang sweet lullabies. Sometimes, he would tell the babes inside his womb tales about their father, which would cause tears to flow from Luca's emerald eyes

 

As expected, the birth proved to be a very difficult and excruciatingly painful one. The first to emerge was the smaller child, a boy, Unni told him. But Luca could not tend to his first child at once, panting as he was for breath and clinging tightly to the hands of Havar and Ragnhild on either side of him. With every push to deliver the second, much larger child, Luca would scream in agony. Already, the bed was drenched with the blood that poured between his spread legs. Surprisingly, it was Buri who could no longer endure the screams of the mage. Barging inside the chamber with a small knife, he pushed Unni aside and carefully slashed Luca's opening at the perineum. As the orifice grew wide, the baby's head popped out. With one final push and a cry, Luca delivered the second twin, a girl, which Buri caught in his arms.

 

Taking the baby girl from her husband, Ragnhild and Unni presented the twins to the weak Jotun—for Luca finally reverted back to his true form—lying on the bed. But Luca would not look at them. After all, his life was going to end. Why should he torture himself with the sight of his babies whom he will never see grow up?

 

Buri broke the troubled silence. "I will give you one final day to say farewell to your children."

 

 ** _"BURI!"_** Ragnhild exclaimed, about to demand that the mage be given a full pardon.

 

But Luca looked at the Aesir King and said, "I know it is not my place to ask, Your Majesty, but would you and the Queen be so kind and generous as to be parents to my son? To Havar and Unni, I give my daughter." A tear fell from his eye. "I'm begging you. It would put my mind and heart at ease to know that my children would be loved and cared for when I'm gone."

 

"As you have sworn an oath to give your life as recompense for the son I had lost, I too swear to you that I shall care for your child as though he were my own," Buri stated solemnly. With that said, the King strode out of the chamber.

 

Ragnhild couldn't help weeping as well. Together with a sobbing Unni, they laid the babes in Luca's arms. Promptly, the twins rooted upon his chest and began suckling greedily upon his nipples.

 

"What are their names, Luca?" The Queen asked. "As their true mother, it is you who should name them, not we."

 

The mage gazed down at the boy, the tuft of dark brown hair at the top of his head identical to his grandfather's and not his sire's. "I name my son Bor." He then turned to his Jotun babe. "And this little girl is Farbauti. May…may I please speak to Havar alone for a moment?"

 

Havar would later confess how Luca had cried bitterly in his arms while cradling his children. The mage had looked into his children's eyes and despaired that both had inherited the desire for conquest and the madness which had consumed his father Ymir. For the last day that was given him, Luca used his seiðr to try and arrest Ymir's evil influence in the hope that not only will it not trouble them as they grew up, that it would not be transferred to their offspring as well. But even he could not tell if his spells had worked. In the end, the mage lay back on his bed, hugging his babes tightly, as he sang them both to sleep.

 

The next morning, Luca gave his children to Ragnhild and Havar, kissing them on their foreheads one last time, just as the guards came to fetch him for his execution. The Queen was about to protest when his wrists were secured behind his back with shackles.

 

Luca, however, gave her a reassuring smile. "It's alright. This is the King's command after all."

 

The procession toward the execution spot in the courtyard was more somber than the one when the mage first arrived in Buri's realm. Having known of Luca's goodness from their children, the people bowed their heads respectfully to the brave Jotun. Some even had tears glistening in their eyes.

 

The place where he was to be executed was a round patch of brown earth. With head held up high, Luca got down on his knees, waiting for the executioner to take his place with great axe in hand. He looked to where his children were and he smiled, tears falling down his cheeks, seeing them safe in the arms of their adoptive parents. Buri himself was carrying Bor, and the King was clearly at war with himself, uncertain of whether he should stop the execution or not. Luca, however, shook his head slightly and said, "No." At that single word, the King too shed a tear of regret and forgiveness for the mage.

 

Resigned to his fate, Luca faced forward, his eyes focused on the sky above him. If his prophecy held true, some day, something very bright and shining will bring light upon this world. But for now, what descended from the heavens was the brilliant form of Thorbolt, come to take his lover with him to the great beyond. Such was Luca's joy at beholding the man he loved again that his happy smile and chiming laughter was forever etched in the memories of those who had come to witness his death.

 

Luca Ymirsson never felt the blade of the axe slice through his neck. Neither did he see his head roll on the ground, his tears of ice and blood trickling to the earth. His eyes and lips were on Thorbolt alone as he ascended with his lover to a much better, happier place than the one they had left behind.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

_Centuries passed. Bor became King after his adoptive father Buri died. A great warrior, he quelled the evil schemes of a race of Dark Elves, although he was not entirely successful in destroying Ymir, who continued to wreak havoc upon the realms. However, Ymir was never able to sire a son with the same great power as the Blood Mage. As it turned out, Luca had made certain of this by castrating his father during their final battle._

_The task of ending Ymir's reign was accomplished by Bor's sons—Odin, Vili, and Ve._

_True to Luca's prophecy, it was upon Ymir's remains that the three Aesir princes created a new universe. What had once been illusions in Ragnhild's garden became a reality. Plants and Flowers of every shape and color blossomed; creatures great and small roamed every corner of this new world._

_It was Odin who planted the seed which Luca had given to Buri in the same patch of earth where the mage was executed. The seed grew into the great World Tree, Yggdrasil, upon whose branches were cradled the Nine Realms of the Cosmos, with the Golden City of the Aesir, Asgard, sitting at the very top._

_On one of Yggdrasil's smaller trunks, there grew a plant with oval yellow green leaves; from its stems hung small white and red berries. Odin would name the plant "mistletoe", but to the old Aesir who remembered the ancient times, they would call it "Luca's Tears" for the berries resembled the teardrops the mage had shed during his execution._

_This mistletoe would later play a major role in the turbulent history of the Aesir. But for now though, it watched silently with the World Ash, as Odin returned home from Jotunheim, the realm of the Frost Giants, having just defeated its king, who rivaled his forefather Ymir in evil. His wife Frigga sat beneath the tree's branches, mourning over the second child she had lost just two days ago following a difficult childbirth._

_So great was her delight when her husband presented her with a wriggling bundle. Removing the blanket, Frigga beamed at the sight of the smiling Jotun child, whose skin color Odin had changed into that of an Aesir's._

_"This child is the son of King Laufey and Queen Farbauti of Jotunheim, left in the temple to die for he is small and weak, and is perceived a disgrace by his sire and the other Jotuns." Odin gave his wife a meaningful smile. "But he is not weak at all. He is very strong. You can see that, don't you, Frigga?"_

_The Queen of Asgard nodded. Like her husband, she too was well-versed in the arts of seiðr, and this little boy had the magic in abundance within his tiny body._

**"MOTHER! HOW DARE YOU KEEP MY BROTHER FROM ME? I WANT TO SEE HIM RIGHT NOW!"**

_Frigga laughed at that outraged cry. She had kept the secret of her baby's death from her eldest son, who was so looking forward to the arrival of his sibling. With this new babe, there was no need to tell him the truth of his real sibling's demise._

_"Well, I wanted your father to see him first, Thor," the Queen replied, as her firstborn stormed over to them, his blond hair radiating lightning. "But now it is your turn."_

_The little boy's eyes were as round as saucers as he "ooh"-ed and "aah"-ed at the baby in his mother's embrace. "May I hold him…please?" he begged the Queen in earnest._

_Gently, Frigga transferred the babe into the boy's arms. For awhile, the two just stared at each other—wondrous green eyes gaping into awe-struck blue. Then, the baby let out a most delightful chuckle, his tiny hand closing around the finger that his 'brother' was wagging in his face._

_"He is sooo pretty, Mother, Father," Thor gushed, his face beaming with pride and affection that was more than brotherly. "What's his name?"_

_"We haven't thought of one yet." Odin grinned as he bent down and gazed at his eldest through his right eye, his left now covered by an eyepatch because of the slash inflicted by Laufey's blade. "I'll tell you what. Since you have waited for so long to see your baby brother, why don't you give him a name?"_

_Thor's face scrunched up as he thought long and hard. Then, a broad grin stretched his lips as he declared, "I know!" Lifting the baby up by his armpits, Thor announced, "Your name shall be Loki! Do you like that name, Loki?"_

_Loki gurgled in approval, bestowing a toothless smile upon his brother. As Thor smothered the shrieking baby with kisses on his tiny lips and pudgy cheeks, Odin and Frigga nodded to each other. In their happiness, Asgard's Royal Family never noticed how the branches and leaves of Yggdrasil and the mistletoe seemed to cover them with their loving, protective canopy._

_"Loki…" Frigga whispered to her husband. "That is a good name."_

_"Yes, a very good name indeed," Yggdrasil whispered as the mistletoe lovingly brushed its tiny leaves upon the World Ash's branch._


End file.
